


Dreamwalker (aka The Five Times Raphael Santiago Dreamed of His Soulmate)

by TinyValiance



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Raphael, Dreamwalker Simon Lewis, Fluff, M/M, Raphael is a grumpy abuelo who Loves his kids, Soulmates, Worldbuilding is Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6723595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyValiance/pseuds/TinyValiance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of Raphael’s friends began dreaming of their soulmates when they were just children. Holding hands, running through the rain, and kissing under bridges were just some of the adventures they embarked on in their sleep. Raphael never dreamed of his soulmate.</p>
<p>
  <em>Simon blinked, then shook his head more fervently than Raphael had. “No, that’s impossible. They told me that’s impossible, I don’t have the power to enter a Downworlder’s dream.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Raphael shrugged. “And yet, here you are. Stay.”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamwalker (aka The Five Times Raphael Santiago Dreamed of His Soulmate)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Worldbuilding and original characters are tough to write. I do not own Shadowhunters or The Mortal Instruments. Stealing is wrong, and I want the **Dreamwalkers lore** to stay mine, thank you. (I added some vampire lore bc of my lacking knowledge but that is fine to adopt). I have not read the books, only seen the show, so the dynamic between Raph and Si is show-based, and all vamps are my own interpretation of them. Story takes place in 2015. Please feel free to ask questions about the Dreamwalker lore. I just wanted to put my own twist on the Soulmates trope. Sorry about sentence fluidity, I know I need work on that. I hope you like this and I would love your feedback! Anything you have to say is appreciated. xx.

                As a little boy, Raphael Santiago wondered how God could make a soulmate for everyone. The Catholic faith was a translation of God’s grace through the minds of his servants, but Raphael had his suspicions about the authenticity of it. Undoubtedly, the Bible was an original document at some point, made by someone, but many books and passages of the old testament had been invalidated and revoked, and Raphael doubted one could revoke the word of the Lord. It made him wonder what really went on in Heaven, or wherever the Holy council resided anyway. The Dreamwalkers do not tell much.

                Dreamwalkers, in relation to the creation of Earth, are a young species. Oνειρο Aγγελος or Angelus Somnium – Dream Angels. As assistants to humanity since before their services could be documented, they assisted with minor things – leading Neanderthals to water, lifting a funereal man’s spirits with hope, whispering words of encouragement to every person aspiring to be someone, all through the human’s dreams. Angels value modesty and respect the freewill given to humans.

                It was their method of communication that caused the modernization of their name. Like how the Shadowhunters were once called something grandiose and ringing with archaic beauty, the Dreamwalkers’ name evolved from the Greek or Latin it originally was written in – the jury was out on that one. Dreamwalkers do not tell much.

                As a little boy, Raphael Santiago wondered if Dreamwalkers were from God at all. He was only human and could not say for sure. However, he had a strong feeling that nothing Holy could take a Greek name, like one of the ancient civilization’s mythology, or a Latin name to write in university textbooks, to categorize members of the Divine Order like animals. To him, it seemed to serve human needs.

                Though, that is what Dreamwalkers were made to do – serve humanity. They took human titles because that is how human beings understood them. A slave should respond to whatever name their master gives them. The union had always been friendly though, and built upon a mutual respect for one another. The humans gave the Dreamwalkers purpose, and the Dreamwalkers reminded humans of their worth. Raphael wondered how many times Dreamwalkers appeared in the Bible and were simply titled uniquely.

                As time passed, and the buds of intelligence bloomed in mundanes, they decided to do what they evolved to do – satisfy their needs. An agreement was made with the Dreamwalkers that their services should be used for matchmaking. Heartbreak was an incurable epidemic, and if the angels, with their superior Holy intuition, could pair any number of compatible humans together, happiness would thrive in the race. Certain biblical laws (in every Holy text in existence) were made obsolete to accommodate diverse attractions. Soulmates would dream of each other until they could be brought together in real life. Thus, the Dreamwalkers have been introducing soon to be companions in their dreams since the early 1900’s.

                At eighteen, Raphael died and was reborn as a vampire, and his questions received answers. Angels are a species made to protect humans, or who they know as “mundanes”. They do in fact have an alliance with human beings, but Dreamwalkers are the only class of angels who actively interact with the mundane race. They are Holy, but even Jesus Christ was a servant to the pure-hearted illustrations of God’s careful hand. They are professional about their interactions, only revealing the truths that need to be shared. Raphael became content with this knowledge.

                Some of Raphael’s friends began dreaming of their soulmates when they were just children. Holding hands, running through the rain, and kissing under bridges decorated with the graffitied names of artistic lovers were just some of the adventures they embarked on in their sleep. Raphael never dreamed of his soulmate.

                He passed on from his mundane life alone. In sixty years that had not changed, albeit his solitude was often crowded by intrusive bodies.

                **(Sunday night)** “Good evening to you too, Sunshine,” Lily sneered, stirring a blood cocktail as she lowered herself onto a golden couch. Raphael did not open his eyes to greet her. It was 9:30pm – everyone in Hotel Dumort knew this time was reserved for Raphael each night to reflect on his woes. If she desired conversation, she could interact with the clock until it read 10:00pm and Raphael’s schedule opened up. For now, she received silence – the soundtrack of his love life.

                Actually, he thought he might need to cancel his 10:00 with Lily. His sorrow was potent this night.

                Lily persisted, “You cannot keep doing this. It’s depressing.”

                Raphael would argue that he could do this, but he was too busy doing this.

                She continued, “If you want to act dead, go pick a casket. Seriously, Camille gets staked by a mundane hunter – I mean, takes an extended vacation, and _this_ is the fine leadership we get in her place?”

                Raphael put a finger to his lips. She was welcome to lament with him. All she did was leave him in peace. He figured she had, as the other vampires called it, ‘better things’ to do.

                Ten o’clock came around, and Raphael rose from his reverie. As he made himself a blood latte, he contemplated if Lily had a point; maybe he was depressed. Though sex had always seemed like a meretricious activity, love was desirable, and it was love he longed for. It was love that could not be buried with his old, human hope. It was love that made him cry into his blood cocoa at 4:00pm when everyone else was asleep.

                However, it was also love that made him dream.

                That was a secret. Vampires did not dream. Their existence was fuelled by metaphysical energy, governed by supernatural rules. There was no random neural activity in their dead brains to produce a dream. Yet, each night when Raphael went to sleep, he dreamt of himself lying on his bed in Hotel Dumort. Raphael wanted to believe this was not simply the epitome of an anticlimax. He wanted to believe he was waiting to be joined.

                He would never tell those egomaniacs/lunatics/both of the aboves any of that. Sappy ideas like that should only be sold to movie producers for the emotional satisfaction of hormonal teenagers. Raphael was not _sappy_. Raphael was lonely.

                The night passed, and Raphael carried out his duties as the clan leader until 5:00am that morning. Sun would be up soon; it was time for a certain vampire to waste another night waiting for a partner. Could time really be wasted at this point? He could die again, but he did have a life expectancy of forever.

                Raphael, in his sweatpants and t-shirt, (designer, never too casual, so he was never caught off guard,) settled into bed. He closed his eyes. He heard the floor creak before Nikolaos even reached Raphael’s floor.

                “Yes?” He cracked one eye open.

                Sure enough, the boy was standing in his doorway. Elliott had introduced his adoptive cousin to the clan a few years before. Both were Jamaican, but only sported the same dreadlocks and spirituality. Elliott was lanky where Nikolaos had muscle, puerile where Nikolaos was venerable, and Elliott was paler with death while Nikolaos looked healthy and bright. Raphael was surprised he could tolerate Nik’s demeanor. It was probably the cool Jamaican accent that won him over, another thing Elliott lacked.

                “Company?” Nikolaos asked.

                Raphael smiled. “That’s a touching offer, Nikolaos, but I respectfully decline.”

                “Why, you waitin’ for somebody?”

                Raphael breathed a small laugh. “You could say that.”

                “Let me keep their spot warm for them.”

                Raphael’s depression, apparently, was not only wearing on Lily’s nerves. He appreciated his clan looking out for him, but he could not help but want the time to himself – himself, and a soulmate who was yet to reveal themselves. Regardless, he believed in the solidarity of his people, and he nodded for Nik to join him. Nik lied down with a neutral smile, his dreadlocks spreading out over the silken pillowcase.

                Maybe this boy was his soulmate. Maybe this was a sign, a parallel to his dreams. Maybe Vampires simply could not dream of their soulmate because their minds were dead and inaccessible.

                Ten minutes later, when the sound of Nik’s soft snoring became white noise, Raphael’s newly sparked hope fizzled. Love could not possibly feel like staring at a pet fish. He sighed, fluffed his pillow, and turned his back to the sleeping vampire to enter again his own dreamland.

                Raphael was alone again in his bed, waiting.

                Abruptly, the waiting stopped.

                “Stupid junk… come on…” a voice was heard.

                Raphael opened his eyes. Standing in his room was a brunet boy, fairly tall, fairly agitated by a compass-like device in his hand.

                “Hello?” Raphael called.

                The boy spun around, all beauty, no grace. He gave Raphael a nervous smile. “He-ey, did I wake you? I’m so sorry, I’m not supposed to be in your dream. I’m new, and I’m… I’m totally lost, my compass just died on me, and I… do you know the way to New Orleans?”

                Raphael blinked. “No.”

                The boy pursed his lips. “Figures. I’m Simon, by the way, Simon Lewis.” He held out his hand. Raphael tentatively shook it. “Sorry, I just figured it would be rude to barge into your dream and not even introduce myself – wow, you’re cold. Might want to get back under those sheets.”

                Raphael had half a mind to ask this intriguing trespasser to join him under said sheets. “I don’t get any warmer than this.”

                Simon looked puzzled. “Where am I, Canada?”

                Raphael shook his head. “Manhattan, New York.” He smiled with fangs. “Welcome.”

                It took Simon a moment before his features loosened with realization. “Vampires! New York Clan!” Raphael tilted his head to indicate that was the one.

                “Oh, man,” Simon continued, “how broken is this piece of – wait, what’s a human doing at Dumort?”

                Raphael shook his head patiently. “Not human.”

                Simon blinked, then shook his head more fervently than Raphael had. “No, that’s impossible. They told me that’s impossible, I don’t have the power to enter a Downworlder’s dream.”

                Raphael shrugged. “And yet, here you are. Stay.” Everything about the Dreamwalker was fascinating: his visage, his light, his ostensible lack of qualifications for the job. Unlike the plentiful riches he physically owned, his knowledge of Simon’s species was lacking, and the demeanor of this boy only added to the enigma. If Raphael could not have a soulmate, he wanted someone to entertain him for at least the day.

                More blinking. Simon looked down at his compass, then back up at Raphael. “Ah, sure, why not?” He walked over to sit on the bed. “So, what do you do here?”

                Raphael’s smile crept higher up his cheeks. “I run the place.”

                This Dreamwalker’s eyes must have been exceptionally dry today. “You’re Raphael Santiago.”

                Raphael raised his eyebrows. Camille had only 'gone on vacation' a week before, and Simon had mentioned he was new. “You know who I am?”

                “Yeah, well, they haven’t shown me your image yet, but I figured you weren’t Camille.” He smiled.

                The name was a fresh and everlasting wound, but Raphael’s smile lingered through the sting of pain. “It’s been announced?”

                Simon moved his hands as he spoke. “Not officially, but everyone in Malak talks about that stuff. It’s pretty hot gossip around the Institute.” He winked.

                “Malak, your homeland?” Raphael asked for clarification.

                Simon eagerly nodded. “Yeah, pretty nice place. Great view.”

                The Dreamwalker’s fidgeting was exhausting, but Raphael was already asleep, so he could handle it. This would be his excuse for any fondness written on his features. “You said you’re new?” Simon nodded. Raphael continued, “What does that mean? How does that work?”

                “It means I have not been working long. We don’t have a word for it, just ‘trainee’. I believe ‘neophyte’ would be a suitable synonym by definition. I know you have the word ‘fledgling’.” Perhaps angels did not need to breathe either, Raphael thought. “And it’s been working out fine as far as I know.”

                Raphael deflated. “You only tell necessary truths.”

                Simon raised his eyebrows. “What?”

                ‘Fledgling’ would be a tame word for whatever level Simon was at. There went their conversation. “I should go,” Raphael said. He shuffled back to lie down again in his spot.

                “Go where?”

                Raphael closed his eyes. “Here.”

                “Oh.” Silence followed for a brief moment. “Now what?”

                “Now you go.”

                “Go where?”

                “Wherever it is you need to go.”

                “There are many places I need to go, and they are subjected to change every second.”

                “Are you a Seelie, by chance?”

                “Oh yeah,” Simon said easily, “I _love_ the whole never-able-to-lie thing. And the ‘nature’… great.”

                His point was taken, and Raphael smiled again. “Where would you like to be?”

                “There are a few places I would like to be.”

                “Choose one.”

                A few seconds later, Raphael felt the bed dip beside him. His smile grew wider.

                He woke up to the sound of Nikolaos snoring in his face. They had apparently shuffled closer in their sleep. How cruel, to be dropped immediately from a dream into a nightmare. He shuffled away from Nikolaos’s dreadlocks to avoid choking on one in his unconscious state. Unsurprisingly, Raphael could not get back to sleep. He was having a 5:00pm start to the night, then – _brilliante._

\---

                **(Monday night)** He relaxed in Magnus’ chaise lounge – a red piece of furniture for the soul. Magnus sat in the chair across from Raphael with a glass of wine in his hand and a notepad in his lap.

                “So, start from the beginning,” Magnus said.

                Raphael complied. In Spanish, he talked about his lonely childhood, his hope for a soulmate, his death, discovery of the angels, and condensed the last sixty years of his life in what sounded like a dramatic Spanglish rendition of ‘Somebody to Love’ by Justin Bieber featuring Usher. Magnus stopped him after a sonnet’s worth, lifting his finger from the notepad after he magically jotted down ‘ **angst** ’.

                “So, here’s what I’m getting,” Magnus started. “You are tragically in need of a fellow.”

                Raphael blinked at him. “This is what I get for free service.”

                Magnus rolled his eyes. “So why not get one?” Raphael was confused as to Magnus’ intent. Magnus elaborated, “Why not just… pick one of your vampires, ask them on a date, see what comes of it?”

                Raphael frowned. “Doesn’t it count that I was human at one point of my life?”

                “Pumpkin Seed,” Magnus used Raphael’s pet name softly, “your life is over.”

                Raphael closed his eyes. This could not be over for him. If it was over, where was the darkness that consumed a dead mind? Why did his heart still long for a head on his chest? Why did he dream? This brought him to the real reason he sought Magnus’ help.

                “Can I tell you something?” Raphael asked. “You have to promise on your life not to tell anyone.”

                Mangus placed his left hand over his heart and raised his right hand. “You have my word.”

                Raphael sighed, continued, “I’m still having dreams.”

                Magnus leaned forward, rapt. “That’s not possible.”

                “It is for me,” Raphael shrugged. “I’ve been dreaming every day for the past four years.”

                “And you’ve never told me?”

                Raphael shook his head. “It’s always been the same dream. Just me, lying in my bed.”

                Magnus waved a hand, “And you’ve never tried to _leave_ the bedroom?”

                Raphael shook his head again. “In the dream, I can’t leave the bed.”

                Magnus appeared deep in thought. Raphael gave him time to mull over all that, though it was not like the clan leader just divulged an abundance of intricate information, so he waited impatiently.

                Magnus finally asked, “Have you ever heard of astral projection?” Raphael shook his head. “It’s an out of body experience. Perhaps, when you fall asleep, your dreams are simply you just watching yourself in your sleep. You _feel_ as though cannot move because your body is unconscious.”

                There was no way Raphael was accepting that answer at this point. “I’ve met a Dreamwalker.”

                “Oh? Were they good company? I’ve heard they know all the cutest date spots.”

                “I met him in a dream.”

                That gave Magnus pause. He pondered for a little longer after that. He downed his wine in one drink and placed the empty glass on the table along with the notepad. “I’ll be right back, my dear.” He travelled to somewhere in his home. He returned with a large opened book and sat down with it in his lap. He spoke to Raphael with his eyes downcast at the book. “This is a volume on Dreamwalkers,” he explained. “And I cannot,” he flipped the page, “find anything on a Dreamwalker entering the mind of a Vampire. It is possible, apparently, for other demi-mundane species to encounter a disorientated Dreamwalker, but it only says it’s not possible for vampires due to the dead brain.”

                Raphael did not know what to make of that. “So I imagined it?”

                Magnus shook his head noncommittally. “I wouldn’t call the neurologist yet. Who knows who you might meet on the astral plane?”

                “You really think this is astral projection?”

                “Frankly, Pumpkin Seed, I am not nearly drunk or educated enough to make any diagnosis on your unique neural condition.”

                Raphael slowly sat up in the lounge. He feared this would be the outcome. At least now he had something to work with. He thanked Magnus for his help and headed home.

                “What is your damage, Abuelo?” Zeke sat himself on Raphael’s desk later that night. Raphael sighed and moved his paperwork out of the way.

                He replied to the Spaniard, “Busy.”

                “Stop being busy.”

                Zeke flipped his blond hair sideways across his forehead. The boy looked youthful, and he acted the same, so his irreverence could be accommodated by Raphael. The leader put his pen down. Zeke smiled.

                He said, “You missed your 9:30 brooding session today. Any reason?”

                He looked so hopeful. It almost hurt Raphael to say, “I did not miss it. I relocated.”

                Zeke’s shoulders fell. “To where?”

                “Magnus Bane’s apartment.”

                “Oh? There a party? And you didn’t invite me?” Zeke sounded scandalized.

                Raphael played along, “You know how you get when you’re intoxicated.”

                “Save it for Gregor,” Zeke shot back. The boy had nothing to worry about though – Raphael had more than enough words saved for that pretentious alcoholic.

                “Why are you in my office, Zeke?” Raphael asked calmly.

                Zeke hesitated for a moment. With an apologetic look on his face, he handed Raphael an envelope that had been concealed under his thigh. It must have arrived by messenger while Raphael was out. Raphael accepted the letter, only to groan when he saw The Clave’s emblem pressed onto the wax seal. He rubbed his forehead and threw it on the desk.

                “Already?” he grumbled. It seemed like yesterday the last Peace Conference was held to prevent another bout of racist rebellion as Valentine had led years ago. He had attended the last seven in Camille’s place, trying to switch up his escort each time so only one person did not endure the agony.

                Zeke shrugged. “It hasn’t been a year yet, so there must be a war going on.”

                “That is not the Night Children’s problem.”

                Zeke patted Raphael’s shoulder. “Let us know by Thursday who you’re dragging along with you.”

                Raphael gave him a weak wave goodbye. He decided to turn in early that night.

                **(Tuesday morning)** Almost immediately after he fell asleep, he heard the soft sound of wings flapping. Raphael opened his eyes in his dream to again view the presence of Simon Lewis shaking his compass.

                “Are you just messing with me now?”

                “That could be so,” Raphael responded.

                Simon whirled around as he did before. “You again? Honestly, I’m supposed to be in Moscow!”

                “Are you disappointed to see me again?” Raphael teased.

                Simon went pale. “No! No, not at all. It’s great to see you again!” He got himself under control. “No, it’s just, I have a job to do, and I think the guys might have given me another dud.” He slipped the ineffective device into his jeans pocket. “Sucks being the new guy, right?”

                Raphael had a different experience being a new vampire, so he could not relate to what seemed to be angelic pranks. He shook his head. Simon raised his hand and dropped it on his thigh. “Of course not, you’re a vampire! Why would you? Your clan is probably super warm and welcoming.”

                Raphael shrugged. “They have their moments.”

                Simon laughed softly. “Yeah, I bet.” He paused. “So, uh, you’re the new leader around here? I asked about you in Malak this morning, not that I was thinking about you or anything,” he blushed, “but I was just curious as to why there was no announcement, and they said you didn’t put one in and then sent a guy to look in on that—”

                “Do you ever stop talking?”

                “—And now we’re holding a Peace Conference about it. There, now I’m done.”

                Raphael’s eyes narrowed to vengeful slits. Fear washed over Simon’s features and he backed up. “ _You’re_ the reason I’m wasting my Saturday night at a Peace Conference?!” Raphael demanded.

                Simon backed up to the dresser in the room and placed his hands on it. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I swear, I didn’t mean to, I was just wondering why there was no announcement, if I had any idea—”

                “Just shut up,” Raphael hissed. He rubbed his face. He had wanted to postpone the announcement for when Camille was starved to eternal dormancy, but now he would have to lie about her departure and walk on eggshells to keep her prisoner until she eventually succumbed. “I don’t want anything more to do with you.”

                Simon was effectively shut up.

                Raphael lied back down on his bed. “Can you please just go? I’m waiting for someone, and I don’t want you to be here if they show up.”

                “But… you’re dreaming, which isn’t even possible. No one’s coming into your impossible dream.”

                “I am astral projecting,” Raphael said, closing his eyes. “Now leave me alone.”

                Simon sat down on the edge of the bed. Raphael cracked an eye open. “You’re not astral projecting,” Simon said. “I can feel the difference between the astral and dream plane, and this is definitely a dream.”

                Suddenly this all felt real, which was terrifying, and Raphael knew he had to put a stop to his rampant, baseless hope. “I’m dead, Simon,” he murmured. “I’m not dreaming of anything.”

                The Dreamwalker’s face softened, and he reached a hand out to cup Raphael’s cheek. The touch sent a hot shiver down his spine that diffused at the tailbone. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Truly, I am.”

                Raphael moved the angel’s hand away. The contact of Raphael’s hand on Simon’s bare wrist sent yet another hot rush of electricity through his bones. Simon looked unaffected, so Raphael determined that must be the feeling of angel magic. It was invigorating beyond what the vampire could remember about the feeling of a beating heart.

                Simon continued, “Do you know whose dream this is?”

                Raphael opened both eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

                “I’m a Dreamwalker,” Simon shrugged as though this was obvious. “I walk through dreams to bring mundanes together. Since you’re not a mundane, it makes sense I don’t have a purpose here, but I still have a purpose in general. I’m still a Dreamwalker.” Raphael was not quite following. “For me to be here, this has to be a dream.”

                There was no one Raphael knew who could dream of him in this way. This was intimate. The person would have to know Raphael and the look of his home to accomplish the building of his dream’s architecture. “There’s no one, only my vampires, none of whom can dream.”

                Simon offered, “Maybe they’re not a vampire.”

                “Pardon me?”

                “I’ve heard of dreams being staged in the minds of others. It takes a lot of magic. But some mundanes,” he gestured to Raphael, “have the power to get dreams from other people through psychic phenomena.”

                Raphael slowly narrowed his eyes, trying to understand. “I’m not psychic.”

                “You’re still half mundane, though.”

                “I was never psychic.”

                Simon gave a downturned smile and shrugged one shoulder. “Then we’re looking at option one. Someone’s putting magic in there.” He poked Raphael’s head, and Raphael batted his hand away.

                That was unsettling. Raphael was a closed-off man, and the thought of someone invading his dreams made him feel horribly vulnerable. He would ask Magnus for a spell to ward off intruders from his mind.

                “Hey, don’t worry,” he patted Raphael’s shoulder, and Raphael shook his hand off. Could this guy take a hint? “This doesn’t feel bad. In fact, it feels like angel magic. It’s hard to tell, because you know,” he gestured to himself, “I could be feeling myself.” Raphael raised his eyebrows. Simon squawked and continued, “God, no, not like that! Oh God, you can’t say God, can you? I’m sorry, I wasn’t even thinking. God, I’m so ingnorant. God! Fuck!” He covered his mouth. Raphael felt his first headache in years come on. Simon tersely ended his spiel with, “I would never feel myself like that in someone else’s dream.”

                With those attractive looks, Raphael highly doubted that Simon had never done such a thing in the mind of someone else, even if the Dreamwalker himself was not doing the fantastical act.

                “I have an idea!” Simon announced. Raphael did not particularly care. “Let’s go somewhere.”

                “Did you not hear me earlier?”

                “Let me try to redeem myself. Please.”

                Raphael shook his head. “You can’t. I’m stuck in this bed.”

                “Yeah, maybe in your own mind.”

                Raphael raised an eyebrow. Simon held out his hand. With a mischievous, lopsided grin, he said, “I’m a Dreamwalker. I can take you into anyone’s dream you want. I can set the whole thing up myself, with _my_ magic.”

                Raphael knew this about the Dreamwalkers. He never thought he would get the opportunity to experience it. Even if he was not going on a date to the Bosque de Chapultepec with his soulmate, he would be an idiot to decline the newbie’s carefree offer. If the Malakian Clave reprimanded him for absenteeism, Simon deserved every scathing word – serves him right for making Raphael attend another Peace Conference. He took the angel’s hand, and it felt as though his spirit found life once again.

                He was blinded by white light and the pungent smell of fruit. When he could see once more, the smell of fruit turned into the image of it, as he was standing in a vast apple crop. The sun’s rays poured down in Raphael’s face, and he smiled. He did not turn to dust. On the contrary, he had not felt so alive in years.

                “Like it?” Simon asked.

                Raphael nodded. “Whose dream is this?”

                Simon pointed across the field, but Raphael could not see anyone. “Couple kids are on a date somewhere over there. We better not disturb them, they’re really hitting it off.”

                Raphael smiled even brighter in agreement. He sat down against a tree, clearing the area of fallen fruit. Simon did the same. He then picked an apple from the tree behind him and bit into it. Raphael longed to do the same.

                Simon gestured to the tree behind Raphael. “Take one.”

                “I can’t,” he responded. “I’ll just throw it up.”

                Simon beamed at him. “Maybe in real life, but this is a dream.”

                It dawned on him like the heat of the sun, and Raphael felt warm inside. He took an apple from the tree, red as blood, and shined it on his t-shirt, then plunged his vampire teeth into the substance. He sucked the juice, and he crunched the sweet fruit in molars that had spent the past six decades unused. He choked a little on his food as he laughed. “Oh, wow.”

                Simon looked very proud of himself. “Missed that?”

                Raphael nodded and took another bite, trying to remember proper eating etiquette. He slowed his chewing. “It’s exactly as I remember it.”

                “Actually, it’s how I remember it,” Simon corrected. “I made all of these.” Raphael held the bitten apple up to Simon to congratulate him. “Ha, yeah, thanks, but it’s nothing. It’s not like I grew any of it. I just put it all together.”

                Raphael sighed wistfully. It all felt so tangibly real, but of course this could never exist in real life. Raphael would be a sunburned pile of ash if it was. He did not even realize he could remember what being alive felt like, but it was as though no time had passed in sixty years.

                The two spent time eating apples in silence, Raphael more so than Simon. After Raphael consumed the equivalent of a three-course meal in fruit, Simon stood.

                “We should go,” he said. “Time passes differently in dreams. You should be waking up soon.”

                Raphael wanted to argue, but his dignity would not allow it. He nodded and stood up, dusting the dirt off his pants. Simon’s smile was fond. “Don’t worry, it won’t be there when you wake up.” He took Raphael’s hand.

                Raphael woke up in his bed. Sure enough, his pants were free of dirt. The taste of apple lingered on his tongue.

\---

                **(Tuesday night)** Raphael carried on his night as he always did, just trying his best to complete his duties. Something weird was definitely going on with his people, though. Whenever he walked by they would smile and quickly turn away, or flinch, and when he spoke to them, there was a noticeable tremor in their responses.

                Finally, he could not take it anymore. He approached Lily in her room. “May I come in?” he asked.

                She flinched and spun around to greet him. “Sure, of course, sire.”

                He sighed at the trepidation in her tone. Even Lily now? “What’s going on with you?”

                “With me?”

                “With all of you.”

                “How do you mean?”

                Lips pulled into his signature displeased look. “You’re all acting nervous around me.”

                Lily tried to play off her anxiousness at being cornered. “Whaaat? Nervous? Nooo.”

                He huffed. “Is this about the Peace Conference? I can ask another member of the clan to join me if my primary council is unwilling to oblige.”

                “It’s not about the Peace Conference,” Lily admitted. “I mean, we’re dreading it, but that’s not… why we’re… acting weird.”

                This was going somewhere. He casually swayed into the room. “So? Tell me, what’s going on, Lily?” He held out his arms to appear amicable and open to any answer. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

                After a moment of hesitation, Lily finally responded, “You’re… happy.”

                He had been open to any answer, yes, but he could never have anticipated that one. “Pardon me?”

                Lily gestured to him, “You’ve been _glowing_ since you woke up tonight.”

                Raphael had not even realized that. He felt completely normal. Was his usual depression really that visible? “I have not.”

                Lily asked, genuinely concerned, “Are you okay?”

                Raphael easily responded, “Yes.”

                Lily worried at her bottom lip. “Okay,” she finally said. She collected a silver handbag that matched her current hair colour. “I’m going out with a few guys from the council, but Nikolaos will be here if you need anything, and there are always the other members of the clan you can count on. I know you don’t know them as well, but they are still bound to you as their sire.”

                Raphael laughed and lifted his hands to calm her. “Lily, I’ll be fine.”

                She did not seem convinced. “Try to be sensible,” she said. “If you feel like you’re about to snap, call Nikolaos.”

                “I taught you everything you know about being sensible, bebé.”

                It had been a while since she heard that affectionate word, a long time since she had been a fledgling. She smiled more loosely, nodded, and left Raphael alone in her room, low heels clicking behind her.

\---

                **(Wednesday morning)** This time, Simon was already turned around and facing Raphael. He smiled when Raphael sat upright with a look of surprise. “Hey.” He shook his compass. “Still busted.”

                Raphael smiled. Good – he never wanted Simon to have a working compass. “Shame.”

                “Yeah,” Simon continued, “and since I was in the neighbourhood, I thought, hey, why don’t we go somewhere again?”

                After a moment of silence to tease him, Raphael nodded. “Sounds like fun. Where to?”

                Simon sat on the bed and took Raphael’s hand. There was the blinding white like, the combined smells of candy and frying oil and butter, and the sound of a hundred voices bleeding together into one noise. When the light, smells, and sounds diffused, Raphael found himself on a fairground in the evening. This was unlike what Raphael had seen as a teenager – this fair was lit up and flashing with lights, the sounds of machines and voices were present all around him, and there were more rides moving at once than his eyes could follow. It was so much bigger than he remembered. Perhaps this was instead an outdoor rave or casino.

                Simon confirmed it was a fair. “I call it Dreamland.” He smirked like he had said something clever. Raphael rolled his eyes. Simon pouted. “What, you don’t like it?”

                Raphael did not know what to make of it. “It has… juvenile charisma.”

                The smile returned to Simon’s cheeks. “Is that grandpa talk for ‘awesome’?” Raphael shot him a smiling bitchface. Simon tugged on Raphael’s hand. “Come on,” he said, “I know something you’ll like.”

                After getting him cotton candy – which was sweet and delicious, to the angel’s credit – Simon pulled Raphael on the Ferris wheel. This was less enjoyable. Raphael’s knuckles were stark white as he gripped the bar in one hand and his cotton candy in the other. Lights reflected off of the water in Simon’s wide eyes, almost as bright as his overwhelming smile. When the ride stopped, and the two boys were stuck at the top, Raphael hissed.

                Simon just laughed at him. “Oh come on,” he said, “it’s not that scary.”

                Raphael thought the person who lived on a cloud did not get a say in what Raphael should be afraid of.

                Simon sighed at the glare he received. “Here,” he took Raphael’s cotton candy and shoved the rest in his mouth. Was that supposed to be of comfort, or did Simon want to see a vampire cry? His pout darkened. Simon threw the empty bag off the ride. “Relax, it’s not really littering. It’s not real.” He took Raphael’s (now) free hand in his own and laced their fingers together. “There, see? If you fall, I’ll fly you safely to the ground.”

                Though wildly uncomfortable with the contact, his survival instincts told him to suck it up. Raphael nodded and held on. He felt so weak and human in these dreams, it was disgusting. He supposed weakness was the price to pay for feeling alive again.

                “So, have you dreamed since you died, or is this a new thing?” Simon asked. “If I may pry.”

                Raphael considered that. “Fairly new,” he responded. “Started about four years ago.”

                Simon laughed breathily. “Four years is still _new_ to you? You’re such an old man. Did you know we can put light in little glass containers now?”

                Raphael shook his head and smiled. “Shut up.” The ride started again, and he squeezed Simon’s hand. Simon just laughed at him as the ride went around and then dropped them off at the platform.

                Simon led him away from the ride. “Need to check your blood pressure, gramps?”

                Just to spite him, Raphael pulled Simon to a rollercoaster ride next.

                When he awoke later that night, the adrenaline of the rides, and the sugar from cotton candy still coursed through Raphael’s cold veins.

\---

                **(Wednesday night)** Gregor’s limp body was heavy in the clan leader’s arms. The young Scot really needed to learn to control his alcohol intake. Being dropped unceremoniously in his bed, Gregor woke up from his drunken state of unconsciousness to groan and mutter something in Scottish.

                Raphael smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Or, you know, reliving.” Gregor groaned at him. Raphael’s smile pulled up at one corner, menacing. “Sober up by Saturday evening. You’re coming with me to the Conference.”

                Gregor took his punishment like a child and cursed himself back to sleep – albeit, a very vulgar and malicious child. Word quickly spread of the chosen co-delegate, and Hotel Dumort had a light and celebratory feel for the rest of the night.

                **(Thursday morning)** Raphael fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

                “So,” Simon casually started. “Have I made it up to you yet?”

                Raphael shot Simon a look to convey his lingering hostility towards the gossipy angel. Simon sighed. “I’m sorry. How many times do I need to say I’m sorry?”

                Callousness did not have its intended effect on Simon. “As deathly boring as they are, I’m not just being childish about attending the Conference,” Raphael explained. Simon crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “For reasons I am not going to tell you.”

                Simon sighed. “Look, I messed up, okay? I know I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Whatever you tell me, from here on out, stays with me. You have my word.”

                Raphael bit his bottom lip and scanned the room. He remembered this was only a dream, no one was there except for him, Simon, and possibly whoever allowed Raphael to dream.

                “Not here,” Raphael said. “Take me somewhere.”

                Simon’s smile could have lit up the room all on its own. He took Raphael’s hand. After a flash of white light and the overpowering smell of soda and popcorn, Simon and Raphael appeared inside a room with a screen and many rows of seats. A few sets of people sat around them, the most animated being a group of three girls feeding each other tiny chocolates from a bag – they must have been one of those polyamorous soulmate groups. Raphael thought that having more than one soulmate must be a headache.

                He asked Simon, “Is this a movie theater?”

                Simon beamed. “Yeah man, you haven’t been to one of these?”

                Raphael shook his head. A few clan members had often tried to drag him to one, but Raphael always had work to do. He preferred training, reading, attending galas, and listening to music on the phonograph in his room in his spare time. It was amazing to him that so many people wanted their eardrums abused by pre-recorded voice and soundtracks played at high volume.

                “I went to the outdoor movies as a teenager,” Raphael said.

                Simon smiled and handed Raphael a bag of popcorn. “Is butter too high in cholesterol for your heart, grandpa?”

                Raphael snatched the bag of popcorn from Simon’s hand with a scowl. Simon placed Raphael’s cherry Coke in the cup holder with a fond smile.

                “What do you want to see?” Simon asked. “Comedy, action, horror…?”

                Raphael shrugged and eagerly drank his Coke. It was sweet and delicious like candy. “Pick your favourite.”

                “Impossible, but I will show you one of my favourites,” Simon declared. He waved his hand and the screen came to life with colour – modern cinema was so vivid, it entranced Raphael.

                “So?” Simon asked. Raphael diverted his attention and turned to him. “What did you want to tell me? Don’t worry, all movies start with previews, you’re not missing anything.” Raphael looked to the three teenage girls. “Trust me,” Simon assured, “they don’t even know we’re here.”

                Raphael clarified, “I don’t _want_ to tell you anything.” Simon accepted that. “You _asked_ me to tell you about Camille.”

                Simon raised his eyebrows. “Is that why you’re upset about the Conference? This is about Camille?”

                Raphael hesitantly nodded. “She is… not on a leave of absence. She was staked through the heart.” Simon’s jaw dropped open. “It was removed by the clan as an attempt to save her life. She was not revived. But Camille… she was powerful. I’m afraid that she might still rise again. The only way I can ensure she will not wake up is if she starves and succumbs to dormancy.”

                Simon had his fond, concerned look on again. He gently placed a hand on Raphael’s cheek and smoothed his thumb over the bone. Raphael took a deep breath and shakily exhaled, but he did not pull away.

                “That’s why you don’t want to take your oath yet?” Simon asked. “You’re afraid she’ll wake up and overthrow you?” Again, Raphael hesitantly nodded.

                Simon shook his head. “Don’t worry,” he assured. “I know Shadowhunters. If you ever want me to, I can ask them to give you protection. They also have weapons that can put Camille to sleep for good.”

                “I don’t want her dead,” Raphael said sharply. Camille did not deserve nothingness. For her treatment of mundane subjugates, she deserved to starve for eternity. Simon backed off, letting his hand fall back in his own lap. Raphael turned again to the screen.

                Of course Simon thought it would be funny to play a movie called City of Angels, and he kept a less than helpful commentary running all through it, but at least he was entertaining. To Raphael’s pleasant surprise, the movie was not unspeakably bad. It at least did not make him want to die all over again. Unfortunately, Raphael was getting used to Simon’s dorky humour. Even the angel’s fidgeting endeared Raphael by this point.

                Raphael was reasonably sure he was falling for Simon, but Simon was too busy being a dork to realize it.

                It was a dangerous point to be at. No one but a soulmate was destined to stay in one’s life forever, and despite knowing this, Raphael was becoming attached. Simon was attractive to him in so many ways, and he wanted the Dreamwalker to stick around. But it was bound to happen that Simon would get bored of him, or get a functional compass, or both of the above. This angel was going to leave Raphael with a broken heart. At some point, he would have to end things. It was only sensible.

                “Hey, did you hear me?” Simon asked. Raphael had not, and he turned away from the credits as he was snapped out of his stupor. “I asked if you liked it.”

                For now, he would enjoy this.

                Despite himself, Raphael smiled, and Simon smiled back. He said, “I hope you realize you’re not funny.”

                Simon shook his head. “Nope, I’m pretty sure I’m hilarious. Next time we’ll watch Vampire’s Kiss. We have to get through every Nick Cage movie ever made.”

                Raphael rarely prayed for selfish reasons, but now he prayed that Nick Cage was a popular actor.

                There was something off about Simon. It was not his humour or poor taste in film that made him odd, and Raphael could not put his finger on what it was. It was not until the halfwit choked on a popcorn kernel, and Raphael had to slap his back until it flew out of his windpipe, that he could identify the obscure quality: humanity.

                “Have you always been an angel?” Raphael asked. “You did say you’re new.”

                Simon sighed and shook his head. “I was raised as a mundane. My dad was a Dreamwalker, and he was killed in a demonic ambush when I was just a kid. My mom didn’t tell me who I am until I turned twenty-one.”

                “Oh,” Raphael said. He knew the pain of losing family. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

                Simon nodded and gave him a small smile. “Yeah, thanks. My sister was even older when she found out. Mom called some of dad’s friends to take us to Malak to start training. It took a really long time before I was ready for the job – apparently I’m… a challenge to train.” Raphael believed that. “I needed a lot more angel blood put in my system as well. But hey, I got here!”

                Raphael smiled. “Tomorrow day, we’ll get drinks to celebrate.”

                Simon mirrored his smile. “Can’t wait.”

\---

                **(Friday night)** Dolly blew her nose into her tissue. Raphael was finally beginning to fidget. When he asked Dolly to help introduce him to the classics, he did not know she would start with the longest, most depressing film ever made. And the clan thought _Raphael_ was dark. She choked out another string of vocal sobs when Rose let go of Jack’s hand. Raphael was appalled – that snake said she would never! He crossed his arms and slumped down on the couch.

                When the credits rolled, Raphael barely restrained himself from leaping out off of the couch. Curled up in fetal position was a drenched Dolly crying as though her lungs were not years decrepit.

                “Blood cocoa?” Raphael offered his go-to antidote for sadness. Dolly nodded and continued bawling.

                He went to the kitchen and put a pot on the stove. As he warmed the blood and chocolate contents of the beverage, Nikolaos strolled into the room. He pulled his travel mug of blood out of the fridge and took a sip. Raphael greeted him.

                “Hey,” Nik said. “Blood cocoa?”

                Raphael nodded. “Dolly put herself through Titanic. I’ll never understand masochism.”

                Nik leaned on the counter and smiled at him for an extended amount of time. It was a little creepy, but Raphael was not the kind of leader who would shame his clan into acting normal. He only shamed Gregor a little bit for the Scot’s own well-being.

                “You’re a good leader,” Nik said. Raphael looked at him with a confused expression. He appreciated that, but where had that come from? “If anything happen with Camille, we will stand by you, and protect you. I know I will.”

                Raphael was not certain as to how Nik even knew he was worried about such a thing, but he stiffly nodded and accepted the support.

                Elliott entered the room then. “Oo, blood cocoa.” He retrieved a mug from the cupboards. When he turned, he saw his cousin, and Nik raised his travel mug to Elliott to say hello. “I’m starting to think you’re romantically involved with that thing.” He nodded to the mug, and then asked Raphael, “Does he ever use anything besides that mug?”

                Nik slapped Eliott’s arm, placed his blood mug back in the fridge, and left the room. Elliott happily obtained his cocoa and sauntered out along with his cousin. Gregor, on the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, trudged the kitchen, hungover and grumpy. He snarled at Raphael, obtained a blood bag from the fridge, and trudged back out. Maybe not _all_ of them would jump to Raphael’s defense. He sympathized.

                After delivering an order of blood cocoa to the current titleholder of ‘Saddest Leonardo DiCaprio Fan on Earth’, he worked until bedtime.

\---

                **(Friday morning)** “Is this a music venue?” Raphael asked, looking around the small bar. The bar stools as well as the couches in front of the stage were occupied.

                “With an open bar,” Simon elaborated. He and Raphael took the last two free barstools. They ordered two Manhattans, both garnished with a maraschino cherry. Raphael closed his eyes to savour the sweetness of the perfect ruby-coloured fruit. Upon opening his eyes, he found four more cherries sitting atop the ice in his drink. Simon’s grin was wide and adorable. Raphael felt heat rise to his cheeks and he looked down at the drink in his hands.

                They spun around to view the stage. “What’s going on?” Raphael asked. “A performance?”

                “A few bands are booked for the night,” Simon explained. “We missed the first two.”

                That was strange to hear. Simon always seemed in control of the dreams he orchestrated. “Who’s dream are we in?” Raphael asked.

                Simon did not respond, and his smile faded. He watched the band on stage set up their equipment. “Mine,” Simon said. Raphael’s eyes widened, and his drink nearly slipped from his fingers. “It’s a memory.”

                Raphael asked, “You’re asleep? Aren’t you working today?”

                Simon shook his head. “Friday is my day off.”

                Raphael was nervously stiff. “Are you in control of this?”

                Simon gave him a small smile of reassurance. “I wouldn’t let you into my head if I didn’t want you here. I’m not a mundane; I know when someone is in my dream.”

                Raphael suddenly remembered he had forgotten to ask Magnus for a warding spell. He grew to like having his mind invaded in his sleep, as long as Simon was there. “How can you be asleep and Dreamwalking at the same time?”

                 Simon had a knowing look in his eyes. “This is what we call astral introversion. I’m still me, just a different form of me, projected within my body. Body-ception.”

                Raphael had no idea what Simon meant by ‘body-ception’. It was probably one of his dorky pop culture references. He focused on the band who introduced themselves as Rock Solid Panda, and at that, Raphael cocked an eyebrow at Simon.

                Simon laughed halfheartedly. “When I left the band, we were still Rock Solid Panda. My mom told me they’re Midnight Burrito, now. I like that better.”

                They started to play their first song, a cover which they called ‘Forever Young’. Raphael was convinced Simon chose this memory on purpose, just to be his idea of ‘funny’, and he was not surprised in the slightest. In the short time that had passed, Raphael felt like he knew Simon. He felt like he was meant to know Simon all his life. The song, to his pleasure, sounded lovely.

                “Aren’t you supposed to be a matchmaker?” Raphael asked. “Who are the soulmates in this dream?”

                The look on Simon’s face sent hot chills down Raphael’s spine, the angel magic he had felt in his bed – touch was not even required. Simon pointed to the backup singer and acoustic guitarist, then to the keyboarder. “They’re soulmates. Maybe not in this dream, but they are. That’s good enough for me. Besides, it’s my day off.”

                As the two drank in respectful silence, Raphael observed the two soulmates on stage. The dark girl seemed soulful and friendly, whereas the backup singer practically sneered when he smirked and wore a v-neck shirt like a douchebag.

                When their second song reached its conclusion, Raphael said, “They don’t look compatible.”

                Simon breathed a laugh and shook his head. “You would be surprised.”

                If that was true, then dear God, Raphael prayed, because he was selfish,  _please_ let the radiant angel and the coldhearted Downworlder be made for one another. Simon’s fingers taking the empty glass out of Raphael’s hand snapped him out of his thoughts.

                He placed the glass on the counter then laced their fingers together. “I feel the same,” he said.

                Raphael stared. “What do you mean?” Was he that obvious?

                He swiped his thumb over the back of Raphael’s hand. “I’ve been in your head,” Simon explained, “I know how you feel.”

                Raphael would be blushing furiously if he could. That messed him up big time. His jaw clenched, and he did not know where to look in the room. He wanted to leave.

                “Raphael, it’s okay,” Simon’s tone was effervescent, “I feel the same way about you! Wow, this is so weird. Good weird!”

                “Nothing is okay,” Raphael snapped at him. Simon looked hurt. “I don’t _have_ a soulmate!”

                “Are we really still doing the self-pity thing? Isn’t that old? Well, everything about you is pretty old.”      

                “It’s over. All of this.” Raphael wanted nothing less than for this to be over, but it had to be.

                That seemed to catch him off guard. Simon slipped off the barstool to stand at Raphael’s level. “I don’t – I don’t get it, why does it matter—”

                “Because I don’t love other people,” he blurted. Simon stopped talking. Raphael elaborated, “I have never had feelings for _anyone_ until now. I am not attracted to other people. If I have feelings for you, it’s... more than I know what to do with. More than I can handle.”

                Simon crossed his arms. “You’re scared.”

                Raphael did not respond. Simon was right.

                Simon shrugged, “Alright, so what? You’re an aro. That doesn’t mean you can never love anyone. You could be greyromantic.”

                Raphael raised his eyebrows. “I’m a what?”

                “A wizard, Harry,” Simon mumbled under his breath. When Raphael slid off his barstool to attack, Simon jumped backwards and said, “Greyromantic! You know, you don’t feel romantic attraction, only fall in love sometimes…? That sound familiar?”

                Raphael paused, mulled over that. “What about… the other kind of attraction?”

                Simon goofily smiled. “You mean _sexual_?”

                Raphael sighed and shook his head disparagingly – he was not aware this was _eighth grade_.

                “You’re cute when you’re politically correct,” he continued. If Raphael could glare harder, he would. “Okay, sorry, you mean sexual attraction?”

                Raphael felt a little reluctant to reply. He had not discussed this topic since 1953, and in his (admittedly old) mind, the word ‘sex’ was still a little taboo. It was immature, he knew – _now who’s in eighth grade, right?_ He did nothing but glare.

                “Do you feel any of that?”

                Raphael shook his head.

                “Great, so you’re asexual. Case closed. Don’t you feel better now?”

                If Raphael felt better, did Simon really think he would be freaking out like this?! He would have killed for this knowledge years ago. He grew old thinking he had no soul. Raphael hissed and crossed his arms.

                “Okay… not the usual reaction to a sexuality crisis, but you’re entitled to it,” Simon said, sounding as though he’d handled many of these in his career. Maybe he had. But Raphael did not have this professional advantage, and he continued to sulk. When Simon reached out to touch his face, the sulky vampire turned his face away.

                “Now you’re just being stubborn,” Simon accused, and Raphael did not deny that, because again, more often than Raphael wanted him to be, he was right.

                Simon’s breathing was shaky and irritated now. “Heartbreak happens, Raphael.” His tone was firm despite his anxiousness. “There’s only so much a Dreamwalker can do to prevent that. I know we help a lot of people, but honestly, we get _way_ too much credit. People fall in love and fall out of love every day. The point is not to never feel anything for anybody, the point is to find someone who you love, and who will love you back until you both die. _That’s_ a soulmate.”

                “Dios mio, Simon,” Raphael spoke firmly, “I – _am_ – dead.”

                “You don’t get it.”

                “You don’t understand.”

                “We don’t have to be soulmates to have feelings,” Simon spoke with finality. “We don’t even have to be a romantic thing. I’m used to that, trust me. Let’s just… be friends. I know I don’t have a soulmate, okay? I never dreamed of mine ‘cause of the angel blood. I just stayed in my bed, alone, and waited. You think I don’t wish I had one?”

                That sounded far too familiar for comfort. He continued, “I thought I met my soulmate three times. Once with my best friend, once with some guy I knew in high school, and once with a Shadowhunter who is actually meant for a Seelie knight. A _knight_ , Raphael.” Raphael heard him. “I never even stood a _chance_ with any of them! So maybe this was all false hope too, but can you blame me?”

                This was indeed a tragic story that completely reaffirmed Raphael’s confidence in his decision. It spoke volumes about Simon’s desire for a soulmate, but that is all it was – desire. “Well, you had that coming, didn’t you? Be sensible.”

                Simon stepped forward again. “I was an accountant,” he said softly. “Yeah, the music is just something I did on the side. It was a dream, but a risky dream. I’m not some… quixotic idiot on a quest to find true love. I know about being sensible, but emotions can never be sensible.”

                That last line sounded practiced. “That’s why I don’t have them,” Raphael concluded.

                Simon’s expression fell and he crossed his arms. “You are such a dick. How can I even like you? All you do is brood and complain and not appreciate my humour.”

                “Goodbye, Simon.”

                “Raphael—”

                “Put me back in my own head.”

                “I am trying to help you here. I wouldn’t tell you any of this if I didn’t think it would help.”

                “Then help me. Take me home.”

                He woke up under his gold comforter. After adjusting to his surroundings, and willing himself not to cry, he cuddled his pillow and went back to sleep.

                Friday night came and went, and when Raphael went to sleep on Saturday, he dreamt of himself, lying in his bed, alone and waiting.

\---

                Gregor was still hungover on Saturday evening. That undead metabolic rate is killer.

                A cab was sent to Hotel Dumort. The two delegates were driven to the dilapidated church and current holder of the Shadowhunters’ Institute. Once inside, they were led on the ‘safe’ route to the boardroom (larger on the inside). Raphael and Gregor politely took their seats at the round table.

                Meliorn had already taken his seat as the Faerie delegate, along with Luke Garroway and a respectable looking lady for the Werewolves who put Raphael’s co-delegate to shame. At least Gregor had the defense that vampires were _supposed_ to look dead.

                The seats were quickly filled with the remaining delegates – Magnus Bane for the Warlocks, Lydia Branwell for the Shadowhunters, an unfamiliar female clad in a white sari for the Guardian Angels, and… Simon Lewis, with an older female at his side for the Dreamwalkers. Raphael had to blink twice in succession to try and process this. Simon did not tell him that he was a delegate. Simon smiled meekly in his direction and took a seat across the table from him. Raphael physically could not will his body to do anything besides stare. Magnus watched them both with fascination.

                Jace Lightwood – Co-head of the Institute since 2012 – stood and announced the Conference had begun. He probably lost the coin toss to Clary Fairchild this year.

                Thirty excruciating minutes later, Raphael was asked to stand and take the Oath. Every new leader had to take the Oath on behalf of their people, swearing to adhere to the Peace Accord (featuring the extensive and remarkably detailed list of peace rules, including but not limited to: protecting mundanes, not murdering the Seelie Queen in cold blood, civilly resolving conflict, etcetera). The only thing keeping Raphael awake was the presence of his Dreamwalker, but the angel was also a huge distraction. With Jace’s patient help, Raphael got through the Oath. He mentally promised to remember Jace as a friend.

                Meliorn stood. “On behalf of the Faeries,” he said, “we are delighted that you have taken over as Leader of the Night Children. Elated, actually.”

                “I hope this can be a new beginning for our people,” Luke stood and said. Raphael smiled politely but doubted it.

                The next hour was spent going over reforms, precautions, and anything else the Clave could think of to make this experience as boring as possible. Gregor passed out twenty minutes in and was excused to rest in the lobby. Raphael apologized and explained it was his fault, that he misjudged Gregor’s condition. He was half-telling the truth – it was his fault, but he had not misjudged Gregor’s misery. One good thing about the Peace Accord was that everyone was required to accept his (reasonably requested) apology. When the meeting finally concluded, Raphael fully intended on running out as fast as he could without using supernatural speed.

                He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Raphael reluctantly turned around to address Simon Lewis.

                “Hey,” Simon bashfully said. His smile was cute in real life. Raphael wished himself a deader man. “You looked all weirded out. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I would be here. It was a last minute decision. Only Hephzibah was going to come, but then I said I wanted to.” Truly, Raphael would never understand masochism. “I thought, since this is my fault, I should be here.”

                That was noble, Raphael would give him that. He nodded and turned again to leave. Simon caught his shoulder and held out his hand. “Are we good?”

                Touching Simon was a bad idea, Raphael knew that. He grabbed the hand anyway. A flash of white that had nothing to do with teleportation momentarily blinded him, hot chills set his soul aflame, and his heart soared, as though he found a long lost friend. He could get lost in this feeling of being alive.

                By Simon’s expression, Raphael could see that Simon finally felt the spark too. His relationship with Simon in the real world was so different. Here, Raphael could feel human and still be as stony as he desired, and Simon was powerful, but did not have power over him. Not unless he _wanted_ Simon to, that is, and after feeling what he felt with the angel in his dreams, how could not want to? How could he tell Simon to let go when he loved the hold so much? He realized now that was not an option.

                Magnus’ sarcastic tone cut in, “My, this is a libertine display of affection. At least buy him a drink first.”

                Simon’s lips pulled into a dazed smile. “I already did.”

                Magnus raised his eyebrows and flamboyantly turned to escape the conversation immediately – his own fatherly version of ‘let me know how it goes, kid’.

                Simon said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just wanted to apologize and put this behind us. You made your point.”

                That hurt more than Raphael would ever admit. He yanked his hand out of Simon’s grasp. “I accept your offer. We can be friends.” Simon glowed. He literally, genuinely lit up, like a white fluorescent bulb. It must have been an angel thing. “I meant what I said,” Raphael asserted. “I am an honourable man, and I will uphold the promise of our alliance to protect you with my life, but do not force me to be unkind. Do not let me see you again unless you need me.”

                He turned and left before Simon could get another word in. Gregor was dragged off the bench in the lobby to the cab by the collar of his shirt. No amount of muttering “This is _Armani_ ” under his breath could save him.

\---

                Nikolaos stood in the kitchen making blood cocoa for his sire. The vampire had returned a few hours before looking wrecked beyond death, and Nik figured the man could use a pick-me-up.

                To his surprise, Lily escorted a Dreamwalker into the kitchen. “He’s looking for Snivels McGee.” She strutted out of the room.

                Simon held his hands together, looking nervous and out of place. “Hi, sorry for intruding. That girl said you know where Raphael is?” He blinked, recognizing. “Nikolaos?”

                Nik nodded. “Hello again, Simon.” He shook the other angel’s hand and pulled him into a side hug. Always nice to see a brother.

                “Man, I never see you around Malak anymore!” Simon chirped and crossed his arms. “Where you been? Training?”

                “Here, there, everywhere,” Nik explained, stirring the blood cocoa. “Yes, training." T’is my strong belief that the werewolf, warlock, and vampire need a Guardian, too. Everybody needs somebody to look out for them, don’t care what the Clave have to say about it.”

                “Wow,” Simon praised. “How do you even manage all of that? How can you be there for everyone?”

                Nik made a ‘tsk’ noise. “Nobody need somebody all the time. Man upstairs,” he pointed up, “he needs my help now.”

                Simon nodded and smiled. “You have a glamour on?”

                “Mhm. My blood smell vampiric to all demi-mundanes, and I use the travel mug to pretend I drink blood.”

                He did not believe Simon would judge him for this, but he felt an explanation was in order. He explained, “I don’t think it’s lying. They don’t ask, I don’t tell. I do have vampire blood in me. I was almost drained, but my cousin save me. When I recovered, the Clave was unhappy with me. Of course, I had to explain what I was doing with the vampire, and the truth is, he was my friend, my lover, and I never thought he would do something like that. Vampires are good people, I still believe. But I can never take back that night, and despite the Peace Accord, people are racist, and the bosses frown upon me back home. Elliot took me here to live instead, and Camille did not care. Fuck the Clave. Here, I can be a guardian, I can still be their friend, and I can try to repay my cousin.”

                Simon gave him an awed look. “Dude, that’s amazing. And you’re right, fuck the Clave.” He smiled. “It works, by the way. I didn’t even recognize you at first.”

                Nik smiled back. “I forgot, you’re a half-blood.”

                Simon scoffed. “What is this, Harry Potter?”

                “You should be honoured,” Nik said, pouring the cocoa into a mug, “Harry Potter is a good man.”

                It must have been nice to have someone play along with his nerdiness for a change. Simon offered out a hand. “Let me take it up to him.”

                Nik gladly handed over the beverage. Before Simon could leave, Nik called to him. “Take this too,” he said, and offered out a compass. Simon’s mouth dropped open as he took the device. “I’m sorry I had to fix your old compasses. This one works fine, no redirection.”

                Simon pocketed the device and stared at Nik with an openmouthed grin. “You Dreamwalked the Dreamwalker. Impressive.”

                Nik gave him a lopsided smile; Simon understood the implication. “I did no such thing. I only gave you a path to Walk on.” He had only provided Raphael with enough brain energy to dream through the day. If Nik could have spared the magic, he would have given Raphael a larger area to dream in, but setting up the dreams of an angel and a dead man was tiring enough. He hoped that someday, Raphael could find it in his heart to forgive him, for everything. “Somebody have to.”

                 With that, Simon headed upstairs. Nikolaos deemed this a job well done, and he treated himself to a trip home to mom for some _real_ food – nobody could make jerk chicken like she did.

\---

                Raphael was working at his desk when he heard the gentle sound of wings flapping. This time, he was the one to spin around.

                Simon walked forward and held out the beverage. “The grossest thing I’ve ever seen, courtesy of our favourite Rasta Vamp.”

                Raphael was not certain as to how Simon knew Nikolaos was Rastafarian. Perhaps they spoke about it downstairs. He warily accepted the drink. “Why do you keeping coming back to me?”

                Simon shrugged. “Because I need you.”

                Raphael placed the cocoa on his desk. Simon undoubtedly thought of the most trivial matter he could to exploit their alliance for, they might as well move it along.  “For what?”

                “Raph,” Simon beamed, “we’re soulmates. You and me, together forever.”

                Raphael crossed his arms. He still wanted to believe that. No matter what he said to him, no matter how cold he acted towards him, no matter how many times he pushed him away, Raphael cared for Simon. “You’re… admirably confident about that, having known me for six days.”

                “Listen, I am trying to help you.”

                “Really?” He was dubious and uninterested.

                “Yes, really. Look, I don’t feel incredibly friendly or loyal to you after what you did to me, but I am still a Dreamwalker. It is still my _job_ to help you find your soulmate.”

                “I’m a Downworlder.”

                “And half mundane. Now, I was thinking about what you said at the fair. When did you start dreaming again after you died?” Simon asked.

                Raphael was unsure of the exact date. He listlessly sighed. “I’m not certain. It was sometime back in 2011.”

                “What month?” Simon prompted.

                Raphael did not like being forced to think under pressure. “I believe it was June.”

                “June tenth?”

                “Why?”

                “Was it June tenth?”

                “Yes, that sounds right.” He did not know why it sounded right, it just did. “How do you know that?”

                Simon beamed. “That’s when I met – I mean, when I started my training.”

                Raphael shrugged. That was a noteworthy coincidence, but still, a coincidence. “And what does that prove?”

                “Well, maybe there was an angel who met me, and an angel who met you, who decided we should be put together. I mean, I’m just guessing here. I don’t know anything for sure.” He sounded honest... “It just took me a little while to be able to find you.”

                Raphael was stunned to silence. He then stepped forward, wrapped his hand around the back of Simon’s neck, and pulled the giant dork down to kiss him. Their lips slotted together, and Raphael welcomed the heat that coursed through him, for the both of them. They broke the kiss when Raphael’s fangs punctured the back of Simon’s tongue.

                Simon pulled away, bleeding and breathless. “Woah.”

                Raphael already regretted that. “What if you’re wrong?” he asked.

                Simon placed his hand on Raphael’s cheek. “If I’m wrong, I guess I’ll see you in your dream today. That’s why I was in your dreams, right? Someone played matchmaker on us? Now we find out if they were right.”

                A few hours passed before Raphael was exhausted enough to fall asleep. In his designer t-shirt and sweatpants, he got into bed. He did not have to wait long before the bed dipped beside him and he was no longer alone.

                That day, Raphael’s brain was as lifeless as a dead man’s. That was how it remained.

\---

                A few nights later, Simon again visited Hotel Dumort.

                “Sorry, work’s been crazy,” Simon apologized. “I’m getting bigger jobs now. Do you know how tiring it is to get from Paraguay to South Korea?”

                Raphael’s laugh was quiet and fond. “I can’t say I do.”

                They lied together in Raphael’s bed. Simon gently traced patterns on Raphael’s wrist – he knew the angel found his coldness interesting. “Hey,” Simon said. “I have to tell you something.” Raphael mentally prepared himself for the worst. “I know who Dreamwalked us. I know you’ll be mad at him, but he was trying to do a good thing. He’s always just trying to do good things.”

                Raphael knew Dreamwalkers only told necessary truths, so he was thoroughly interested. “Are you asking me to take mercy on him?”

                “Yeah, I am,” Simon confirmed. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

                Raphael could not make any promises. “Tell me.”

                Simon waited a moment, then breathed and confessed. “I found out it was Nikolaos a few days ago. He knows we’re soulmates, he messed up my compass to lead me to you, and he’s eternally a pre-fledgling after drinking vampire blood and almost getting drained. Elliott saved him.” He hurriedly continued before Raphael could interrupt, “I know how angels feel about other angels hooking up with Downworlders, okay? He got into a lot of trouble for that. They won’t forgive him until he trains twice as hard as everyone else. Three times as hard. He doesn’t have to make his life more difficult by guarding you guys too, but he wants to. He likes you. He’s a good guy.”

                Raphael had no idea what to say to that. On one hand, he was lied to by a person he considered family. On the other hand, they were still allies, and Nik was a friend, so he technically did not overstep any boundaries he was not entitled to. The Guardian had always been loyal to his sire. In the back of his mind, Raphael had always suspected that something was off. Nik only 'drank' from an opaque mug, was never actually seen sleeping during the day (the only time Raphael could confirm was when Nik offered to be his makeshift bedmate), and had known about Raphael’s fears with Camille. Nobody had ever asked Nik or Elliott about it. This required a careful amount of brooding.

                “You know the Guardian Angel code,” Simon pointed out.

                Raphael was very aware of such a code, as he heard it at the Conference every year – ‘To guard modestly is to guard secretly’. Mundanes were never supposed to see a Guardian. Raphael was only half mundane, but then again, Nik made himself clearly visible to Raphael. He was half secretive.

                Simon prompted, “So?”

                Raphael grumbled, “You talk too much.”

                “Just tell me you’re not mad.”

                Raphael conceded, “I’m not mad. Just disappointed.”

                “Oh man, it’s like you caught your teenage son taking drugs or something.”

                That only earned Simon a glare. “He can stay at the Hotel.”

                Simon beamed and threw himself on Raphael to hug him. “I knew you would understand.”

                Raphael corrected, “I understand, but I’m not happy.”

                “You’re never happy.”

                “Lately, I have been.”

                Simon beamed at him. Nikolaos was still a traitor and a liar, but good had come out of his treachery, so Raphael decided that he could spare a little mercy.

\---

                Nikolaos was nervous, Raphael could tell, but he did not show it with classic signs. There was no fidgeting or aversion of eye contact. He simply sat unmoving in the chair by Raphael’s desk, making himself respectfully smaller, and held direct eye contact with the man standing above him, waiting to receive what was coming to him.

                Raphael crossed his arms. “I was informed of your involvement in my relationship with Simon Lewis.”

                Nik smiled after Raphael said that, but he tried to look properly chastised. Raphael pretended he succeeded at it for both their sakes. “I was involved,” Nik admitted. “He cannot dream of his own soulmate, but other angels can still see who his soulmate is.”

                Raphael raised his eyebrows. “And how did you know who his soulmate is?”

                Nik gave Raphael an amused look. “I live with the man. I am no Dreamwalker, but somebody had to do something.”

                “You never mentioned you’re an angel.”

                “You never asked.”

                Between that loophole and the Code, Raphael knew he would get nowhere. He leaned on his desk. “Can I ask you for something?”

                Nik looked interested to hear this, and he leaned back in his chair. “What can a humble servant do for his sire?”

                The Guardian could be very… Elliott, when he wanted to be. Which reminded Raphael, “Not the favour, but I would like to know – how did Elliott save you?”

                Nik sighed and looked down to Raphael’s chest. Raphael could empathize with Nik right now, whether he still felt shame from needing a savior, or was reluctant to remember the dark time that he needed one. Nik said, “He was actually in the other room. We went to visit friends in Connecticut. We were supposed to sleep over that day and leave the next night, but I was placed under _encanto_ when Elliott went to bed. He found me while looking for the kitchen.” He shook his head fondly. That definitely sounded like Elliott.

                Satisfied with that answer, he continued, “I wanted to ask if you could… spare any more magic, so that I can dream again.”

                Nik raised his eyebrows. “Regularly?”

                “That would be appreciated.”

                Nik pursed his lips. “I won’t do that.”

                “You won’t, or you can’t?”

                “I will not. I won’t.”

                Raphael thought he deserved a reason for that. “Why?”

                “I cannot give you enough to have a good dream,” Nik said. “I can only put you in your bedroom.”

                “That’s all I need. Simon can handle the rest.”

                “That is what I will not allow to happen.”

                Raphael raised his eyebrows and blinked owlishly. “Pardon me?”

                “That is what I will not allow—”

                “I changed my mind, stop talking.” Raphael closed his eyes and sighed to the Heavens, then looked back down at the angel before him. “Why?”

                Nik shook his head. “I cannot say.”

                “You can’t, or you won’t?”

                Nik paused. He then said, “Angels assist, but we must try not to tamper. If I tell you something you do not need to know, it might cause something to happen that is not supposed to happen.”

                Raphael could see now why the Peace Accord was necessary. He clenched his jaw. “Is that another Code?”

                “It is a responsibility.”

                Damn Nik for playing to Raphael’s lawful inclinations. “I need to know this,” Raphael insisted. It pained him to tack on, “Please.”

                After another moment of silence, Nik conceded. “Fine, I will tell you. Raphael, no one dreams of their soulmate after they meet them, and you are not exempted from that rule. There is a reason for it. Once two soulmates are brought together, their lives together begin – their _real_ lives together. They must leave the dream behind and accept reality for what it is: love is never as perfect as it is in the dream. You must never get lost in the dream, or you will never fall in love.”

                The conversation ended after that. There was no more Raphael could say, except, of course, “Go take a walk.”

\---

                Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Raphael and Simon learned they did not agree on everything as easily as they agreed on who got to pick the movie (Simon) and who got to pick the bars (Raphael). Simon could be as immovable as a mountain, Raphael could lose his humanity to his immovable heart, and they could fight until one or both of them had to take a walk. They could bring out the worst in each other. On the other hand, Simon could make Raphael beam as brightly as the moon, Raphael could help Simon learn the vastness of his strength, and they could both be a shelter for the other to return to. They could bring out the best in each other. This was reality, and overall, it was good. As a little boy, Raphael never thought he could hate his soulmate as much as he could love him.

                But he loves him. He loves Simon with the force of a God, so he believes God gave this love to him. He still does not know if Dreamwalkers are from God, but if not all of them are, this one in particular is. As a man, Raphael has all the answers he needs.


End file.
